As soon as this damn play is over, I am so going to get my car detailed.
Now, you have to understand, I'm not a car nut. I'm not one of those people who gets off on spending their Saturday afternoons curled up to a good can of Turtle Wax. Hell, my car hasn't had a good cleaning since my friend Pauline accidentally spilled gasoline in it about a year and a half ago. Since then, I've been through a week's camping adventure in Maine with my burmese mountain dog in the back seat, countless mishaps with the kids, and a particularly unfortunate incident where the sunroof was left open during a torrential thunderstorm, and the car smelled like bad milk for a month.
So perhaps it's understandable that I just wanted my RAV 4 to look like a normal person's car, just for once. No more crumbs collecting on the floor from the hundreds of Dunkin Donuts bagels I had eaten on the fly. No more dust in hard-to-reach areas that couldn't be scraped off with my finger. No more action figures jammed in between the cushions in the back seat. This was going to be my gift to myself for what I had accomplished.
And I have to say, it was a wonderful feeling, driving home from Scrub-a-Dub after work tonight. Driving down 95 in a car that practically glowed, inside and out. Opening the driver's side and peeling off the layer of plastic that covered the seat. Watching my feet slide slightly from the paper place mat placed on the floor. Smelling a faint odor of detergent. Feeling a slight dampness in my posterior from the deep cleansing action that had taken place that afternoon (not in my butt, silly. In the car.)
Sitting in the lighting booth, watching the crowd rise to their feet to express their appreciation for a job well done, was a heavenly feeling. Driving down the interstate in a perfectly clean machine was almost as good.
I wonder how long it'll take the kids to defile it.